


The Sound Of You Is So Sweet

by typosity



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sappy, Sappy Sap, Sleepy Boys, Sleepy Cuddles, bucky's got his memories, gross sap, grumpy bucky likes to curse btw, sleepy everything, sleepy voices, steve's obsessed with the beat of bucky's heart, this is basically steve bein a snuggle bug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typosity/pseuds/typosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up in love, starring Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound Of You Is So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> "He watched the slow rise and fall of Bucky’s back, just itching to lie on top of it and listen to the steady thumping of life against his ear."

Somewhere, someplace, something was _beeping_.

It wasn’t just your average car horn in the distance sort of beep either; more like right up in your face, shrill and blaring, excruciatingly loud sort of beeping. Like Tony Stark after his forth consecutive coffee. It was a sound that had Steve feeling nauseous before he’d even opened up his eyes.

There was a soft groan from his side, barely audible over the sudden extra noise that was seemingly _everywhere_ in and around him, rattling his brain and his bones. Steve was starting to believe it was all in his head, that he’d taken one too many hits the day before, but then he felt a sharp elbow connect with his stomach. He huffed, low and pained as he curled in on himself slightly. Didn't have the energy to reach out and rag on Bucky's hair in retaliation.

“God dammit, Steve,” he heard, followed by the blankets being raked further up the bed. He was in bed, a bed, warm bed, so the noise—oh. _Alarm clock, right_. He’d forgotten to disable it when they got home earlier in the night.

“If you don’t turn that fuckin’ thing off in the next two seconds, ‘m g’na brain you with it,” Bucky’s sleepy voice grew more and more familiar as Steve became decently conscious, the sound of it a combination of gravelly and irritated and tranquil, somehow all at once.

“Six in the morning, who the fuck willingly… sleepin’ with an alien…” he continued to mumble, voice muffled by his pillow as he drifted off into silence once again.

Steve, by then, was still trying to convince himself to open his eyes. After a decent but speedy pep talk (somehow, his conscience had the voice of one Sam Wilson) to himself, he convinced them to open just a sliver, immediately regretting the decision. The sun was filtering into the room, pointed straight towards the bed and casting shadows across Bucky’s bare back—but not Steve.

Blinking away the temporary shot of blindness, he forced himself upright, his hand immediately disappearing into his hair to push it away from where it was plastered to his forehead. He glanced towards Bucky, whose chocolate colored mop was splayed out across his pearly white pillow in a tangled mess. The picture of ease if not for the consistent grumbling.

It reminded Steve of a movie they’d all watched together over the Halloween weekend, something about _Cousin Itt_ and a joke about Bucky that Clint had cracked. The responding laughter had filled the entire place, and Steve was sappy enough to think it was a beautiful sound—little off key, not harmonious by a long shot, but that’s how all families were, it’s how they fit together.

He snorted to himself in remembrance of the obnoxious cackling, and Bucky’s petulant three hour long scowl in reply, his large shoulders shaking gently as he attempted to keep it to himself.

“You better be cryin’ over there, ‘cause I am on the inside,” Bucky muttered, his flesh and blood arm rising from beneath the blankets to slide up underneath his pillow. Steve self indulgently tracked Bucky's back muscles tensing and relaxing with the movement, watching as he settled back into place with a quiet, huffing sigh.

Suddenly remembering the horrific noises filling the room, Steve bit into his lower lip to stifle his amusement, stretching out to lean over Bucky’s half-slumbering body to smack the alarm off with a little more force than necessary. Mostly for Bucky’s satisfaction.

“Fina-fuckin’-ly.”

Steve smiled, couldn’t help it anymore. Couldn’t help the swell of love he felt building up inside his chest, the unbearable desire to wrap his arms around his drowsy best friend, comrade, partner, right hand man, best guy, the love of his life. He watched the slow rise and fall of Bucky’s back, just itching to lie on top of it and listen to the steady thumping of life against his ear.

“You gonna sit and stare all mornin’, or are you gonna lay back down?” Bucky slurred quietly, and for a second Steve thought he’d imagined it, because Bucky’s body hadn’t moved an inch under his scrutinizing gaze.

“I wanna hug you,” Steve replied bluntly, suddenly feeling as if there were too many blankets heating him up atop the bed. Bucky’s responding chuckles were husky and unused with sleep, his head swiping to the side to rest his cheek against the pillow instead, showing Steve a little of his profile through his mane of thick hair. He’d been sleeping face down, just how he’d first fallen into bed the night before.

“Y’don’t need to ask me no more, Steve.”

“I didn’t want to startle you agai—”

“It’s you. I know it’s you. I tell myself every second of the day that it’s really you next to me and not some figment of my imagination. Not anymore. So go crazy, pal, I won't punch you this time. Promise.”

Bucky’s eyelashes fluttered with a heavy-eyed blink in waking, his limbs moving languidly as he shifted in place, as if waiting and preparing himself for the incoming heavy body. Steve could feel his toothy grin trying to break free, because Bucky was here now, despite the world's efforts to stop him from being, and to hell with it if Steve wouldn’t allow himself the simple pleasure of breathing Bucky in—enjoying him and relearning him, loving him fiercely in the privacy of their own home.

He remembered Tony and Pepper and how they were a team against everything in their way, remembered Bruce's soft words. _Even Avengers need love after a rough day, Steve, don't deprive yourself of that_.

“We ain’t gettin’ any younger here, big shot,” Bucky said groggily, but there was a lopsided smile on his face, as if he could read Steve’s mind. Sometimes, Steve wondered if he really could, but that was for another day.

Steve moved so that he was on his side, sliding in closer to drape himself across Bucky, putting them chest to back. His gently touching fingertips dragged along the expanse of Bucky’s right arm, raising the delicate hairs in their wake as they disappeared beneath the pillows cushioning Bucky's head. His palm covered the back of Bucky's hand, fingers curling through the spaces of Bucky’s, who closed his hand into a fist to hold them together tight.

He shivered as his bicep made contact with that of Bucky’s left arm, but Bucky knew by now that Steve reacting to it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just _was_ , and Steve wouldn’t judge him for it, considering the fact that Bucky hadn’t judged the sight of him after his own change.

Taking advantage of his new position, pressed close together in a furnace of body heat, he decided not to talk—to use his lips instead. He ever so lightly brushed his mouth against Bucky’s nape, _I love you,_ the crook of his neck, _I love you,_ his metallic shoulder blade, _I’ll always love you. 'Til the end of time, I'll love you._

Bucky shivered at the initial hot touch of Steve's lips, then gave a soft hum in response, a long and drawn out sound that faded off into something crackly and sleepy and content. It was Steve’s favorite sound. Bucky was happy again.  _I love you, too,_ is what it said.

Steve rested his cheek to the prominent dip of Bucky’s spine, his ear nestling comfortably against the skin of his back. Immediately, he could hear the slow and secure thump of Bucky’s heart, beating loud and clear right into his ear. After a moment of simply listening, he found his own breaths syncing up to the steady rise and fall.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered to it, whispered so quietly in both a plea and a warning, because Steve didn’t need to lose Bucky again. He’d proven time and time over that he loved his best friend and would go to any lengths to keep his heart ticking, he didn’t need nor want to prove himself any further.

He’d never say it out loud, but Steve was constantly aware of Bucky’s breathing. Like being told that you’re suddenly aware of yourself blinking, and being unable to stop yourself from noticing every time you did it—he was like that with watching Bucky. Lay awake most nights just watching, making sure. Making sure he wasn’t losing him in any way, that he wasn't going to dissolve into thin air. Making sure he was still moving and just _breathing_.

Feeling Bucky’s heart speed up minutely beneath his ear, Steve knew he’d heard.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've ever felt a sudden rush of love for somebody where all you want to do is smush them and buy them cakes and kiss their face, you'll know how steve was feelin towards the end there heh heh heh


End file.
